


A Blacksmith, a Sellsword, and a Boy by the Sea

by Sookiestark



Series: Fantastic, Frivolous, and Fragile AU's [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Daenerys, Baby Jon, Braavos, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Life in Essos, Lys, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 04:21:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15040601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: One version of what might have happened if Lyanna, Ser Arthur, and Ser Oswell went to exile with Jon.





	A Blacksmith, a Sellsword, and a Boy by the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride Month!!
> 
> So, here is the story of Arthur and Oswell told over the space of Jon's childhood. I liked the idea of the two of them with Jon, off the grid, working incognito, under the radar, in love and a family.
> 
> It takes place in Lys because I figured a place like Lys might be tolerant of two gay men living together. Also, I figured the remnants of the Rogarre family might want to help out a future King in exile. I don't think they were wiped out completely but if they were, this one branch made it out.
> 
>  
> 
> I don't know what happened to Ser Gerold Hightower but perhaps before they arrived in Lys, he died heroically. 
> 
> I went back and forth whether Lyanna survived and what her role- but that is where I landed. 
> 
> Anyway, this story will about the attempts to get the Targaryens back on the throne. Chapter 2 will take place when Jon is 8. Chp 3 will take place when he is 13.
> 
> It will also be the story of Arthur/Oswell weaved between. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

The boy was young but his first memories were of his Papa’s hammer, hitting the anvil and making some of the most beautiful helmets and armor in all of Lys. At least, that is what the boy thought. Later, he would learn that his Papa was mediocre at best, but when he was young, his father was as skilled as the Smith. 

Papa did not believe in slaves, so they had no slaves to help them. Papa had two boys apprentice with him to come and help in the shop. It was said he came originally from across the sea from a land of barbarians called Westeros His Papa had dark reddish hair, the color of fire burning low before the shop closed, eyes as blue as the sea, and a laugh as infectious as the waves against the shore.

His Da looked like a Lysene pleasure slave. He was handsome and strong with the look of Old Valyria, silver hair and purple eyes. When his Da took him to the market in the next town, women would look at him with longing, as would men. His Da would never look back at them. He only had eyes for his Papa. 

He knew that once long ago his Da had loved another man back in the world of barbarians. This other man had not returned his father’s love. The boy didn’t understand it all. Love seemed confusing. But he did know his Papa and his Da loved him and each other. That was all he needed to know. 

It was rumored that his Da had fought with the Golden Company or the Second Sons. His Da wielded a sword that was made of strange material and shown as milk glass. His Da did not bring this sword out often, only once a year to polish it by the fire. They kept it wrapped in a blanket under their bed. Mostly, he used a regular steel blade that Papa had made him when they had come to Lys, when he was still small before he could remember. On the sword, Papa had made for his Da, was a star and a sword on the hilt. They called it Dusk and Da wore Dusk on his hip every day. 

His Da would train horses for the chariot races held in the Circus in the big town. Many old, rich families of Lys would pay a great deal to have a new horse trainer and his father was very good at training horses. When he wasn‘t training horses, he was diving for oysters. His Da was one of the best divers and Jon loved sitting at the table eating oysters and bread and looking for stray pearls. Sometimes, if the boys had finished early, Da and Papa would teach them how to wield a sword. Jon loved watching his fathers spar in the yard. It was all speed and skill, silver and red, strength and steel. It would always end with one of his fathers in the dirt and then, a kiss or a shoulder pat. His Papa would laugh and make a joke that Jon didn’t understand, but his Da would blush.  
His Da was called, Tino and his Papa, Osso. The boy’s name was Jon.

Jon didn’t look like either of his father’s. Jon assumed Papa was his real father. He did not look like him but he was shorter than his Da and his eyes were blue. Jon’s were grey, which was almost a blue. He also believed if his real father had been Da he would have been born with silver hair or purple eyes. 

The boy could remember his mother if he tried. She was dark like him with eyes of steel. Da would laugh when he asked if she was Dornish. He had seen a merchant ship from Dorne and thought that must be where she was from. Papa smiled and said she was from Westeros like we all were. She had died when he was young and they had buried her underneath the tree in the garden. Papa had planted roses above her grave and Da had said they were not winter roses. Papa had laughed and said winter roses would burn in the heat of a Lysene sun. Jon had memories that she would sing to him. He remembered the way she would laugh and tease Papa and he would dance with her some nights.

They lived in a small house by the sea. It was a small house with a tile patio by the front door with a red R in crushed stone. Jon knew the R stood for the name of the family who owned this house. Lassendrio Rogarre was the man who owned the house. He was an old man with silver hair and purple eyes and Jon wondered if he was related to his Da. Once a year, he would come from his manse on the hills and collect rent or check his investments as Lassendrio called it. 

Jon did not understand this. Papa and Da seemed to dislike the man and Jon wondered why they let him in the house at all. The boy did not understand money or slavery or houses but as he grew and made friends, he realized, though their house was modest, it was better than most of the houses where smallfolk lived. 

They had a housekeeper named Ella who had golden hair and purple eyes. She was married but had fled her husband because he had beaten her. Da had brought her home with a black eye and a broken nose and her two small children. Her children were named Poal and Ysilla and they were his best friends. Ella cooked and cleaned and took care of the house. She had a small kitchen garden in the back by the patio, full of herbs, fruits, and vegetables. She would sing songs like his Mother had and she would hug him no matter how busy she was.

Jon knew they were lucky that Papa worked so hard and Da was so talented and handsome. There was always good, fresh food to eat and a warm bed to sleep in. Sometimes, when they went to market, he would see children begging or being sold to pay their parent’s debts.

 

All day, his fathers would work. Da would laugh at how hard Papa worked over the heat of the forge, sometimes. Papa would smile and say how an old man named Ben Blackthumb taught him how to make a sword and he was glad he had. ”Tino, no one ever looks twice at a blacksmith, especially one as mediocre as me. But a dashing silver-haired sellsword diving for pearls, rescuing the downtrodden, training horses for the chariot races, and wielding a sword like a hero of legends, everyone notices.”

Da had looked troubled and gathered Jon in his arms to get him ready for supper. 

 

When he was five, his Da started to teach him to use a bow and a sword. Jon had been riding horses since he could remember, but he got a pony to ride just for him. When he was five, his fathers moved him from a small bed in the corner of their room to his own room. The room was actually more of a closet or maybe quarters for a maid to a lady. The only door to his room opens to his fathers’ room. They tell him he is a big boy and he must sleep on his own. He tries to protest. After all, Poal and Ysilla still share a room and a bed with their mother. But his fathers won’t hear any of his complaints. 

Jon didn't mind sleeping in his own room most nights. He liked his bed with his soft blanket and his toys, a ball, a sword, some wooden animals, and some knights. He even had his own window. Papa hung a green dragon puppet they had found in the town. It was expensive but Papa had said the boy should have it. There were red, black, blue, silver and gold dragons. Jon had chosen green. It would sway and soar in the wind. 

Sometimes, Jon was scared of the noises or the storms or the monsters he was certain lived somewhere in the dark. Pate, one of the boys who apprentices for Papa, said that Old Rogarre used this house to keep his mistresses. The Rogarre Family used to be one of the richest families in Essos until their downfall over one hundred years ago. It is said his last mistress who lived here drowned herself in the sea. Pate says she might come back for revenge and blood. Sometimes, Jon was certain he could hear the dead woman coming for him to rend him to pieces. 

When his fear would get too great, he would climb between his fathers’ warm, sleeping bodies and he would feel their bodies pull apart as they let him into space between them. He liked the warm press of bodies against him and the feeling of safety and how Pa always smelled like smoke and Da always smelled of the sea. Usually, his Da would say “Go to sleep, Jon. You are safe.” Papa would rub his back with his rough hand. 

As he drifted to sleep, he heard them whisper things over his head. Sometimes, they spoke of their safety and what they will need to do. Sometimes, they spoke of how they will need to get him a septa and a tutor to teach him what he will need to know. Sometimes, they spoke of a terrible threat and how they should stay in this small house by the sea for another year until Jon was older. These conversations made Jon wonder what was the danger and where would they go. 

Jon’s favorite conversations with his fathers were when they would talk about love. “I want you,“ or “We will be alright together.” “ I love you.” was always his favorite Sometimes, one of them will growl against the other’s body or shoulder. The boy would feel them check to see if he was sleeping and they would kiss softly. Jon knows the truth of it, that they are a family and he is safe between them and their love. 

One morning, he woke to his fathers standing in the sunlight. Papa’s broad muscular back was to him and Da was facing him, but he did not see him because he was looking into Papa’s eyes. Carefully, his Da tilted his Papa’s chin and kissed him with so much love that Jon smiled. The kiss lasted longer than it usually did. When they pulled apart, Da moaned, eyes closed, head resting on Papa’s shoulder, “Gods…”

His Papa laughed again in the silver hair of his Da, “There are no Gods here. We left the Gods back in the Seven Kingdoms with the Iron Throne and our White Cloaks. Here we only have each other.”

At that moment, his Da saw him, “We must go back, Oswell and this must end soon.”

Da had called Jon to him and took him to the yard to practice with his wooden sword.

Jon was almost six when the old man came to his house by the sea. The old man walked straight along the road that followed the shore. He was dressed in simple clothes and a brown cloak. He came alone with only his pack and a sword at his hip and a staff in his hand. His Da met him on the stairs, with Papa coming from the yard. Da had his special sword in his hand. Jon knew this meant danger and peeked from the window by the shut door. 

When the old man looked at him, he spoke, “Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell, I come in the name of serving the true King of the Seven Kingdoms. I have spent several moons looking for you fools. You must have forgotten how long I knew you both to think I could not find you or an unknown Targaryen in the world. Do not make me spill your blood on the sands of the goddamned beaches of Lys. The boy will need all of us to survive.” 

After the old man whispered his threats, they clapped each other on the shoulders came inside to speak in angry whispers, saying words Jon had never heard before and did not understand. Da came to find him and brought him to see the old man. The old man eyed him critically. “He has his mother’s look. Ned Stark will not be able to deny him. But he has Prince Rhaegar’s shape of his face and his form to him, just not his coloring. Does he ride? Can he read and count?”

“He can ride and does well with a wooden sword. He can count but we still need to get him a tutor.”

“We will need the other Targaryens, the ones Darry has if we mean to do this. I have heard strange things about Viserys, that he has his father’s temperament. But we will need them to make the boy seem authentic.”

Then the old man did the strangest thing. He knelt before Jon and said words of allegiance and duty, swearing to defend and protect him. Jon looked to his Da but he was looking down at the old man.

Hours later, Papa came and gathered him from the hearth for he had fallen asleep listening to their words. Papa took him to bed. As they walked through his father’s rooms, Jon noticed his fathers’ larger mattress had been removed in order to make room for two cots. More distressing though was that the old man was going to sleep in one of the cots.

As Papa listened to Jon recite his prayers, he had played with the frayed end of the blanket on the bed. When Jon was finished, Papa spoke, “Jon, your name is not Jon. It is Aegon, Aegon Targaryen, and our time here on the shore of the sea is almost over. I am not a blacksmith and Arthur is not a sellsword or a horse trainer. We are Kingsguard. We are not your fathers, but we are your knights, men sworn to protect and defend you. We were your father’s closest friends. That old man is Ser Barristan Selmy and he has come to find you and set you on the Iron Throne. See, you are not just a boy but a prince and one day you will be King, King of the Seven Kingdoms”.

“Pa, if you are not my father, where is he?”

“His name was Rhaegar and he died fighting the man who stole your throne. So, some things will change but some will stay the same. We will stay with you for the rest of our lives but you must not call us Papa or Da. My name is Ser Oswell Whent and your Da is Ser Arthur Dayne. We pretended to be your parents to hide you and keep you safe until you were old enough. We will never be a family and we must not talk about how we lived before. That time is over. Can you promise me, Jon.. your Grace?”

“Yes, ser.” 

That night, Jon cried. He cried hot silent tears on his pillow and wished for the old man to die for taking away his family. In the middle of the night, he heard a noise like the forge had been started. He looked out his window to see Ser Oswell hammering at steel in the dead of night. Papa... Ser Oswell never did that. Jon peeked into the room where Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur slept, the room until this night his fathers had slept together. Ser Arthur was sitting up in the darkness and the moonlight made his silver hair look unworldly and beautiful. 

Ser Arthur saw him and rose, never looking toward the open window. He wiped his face and gathered the boy up to carry him to bed. Jon knew Ser Arthur had been crying. He rested his dark curly head on the man’s shoulder like he had when he was much smaller. Jon whispered, “Ser Oswell never works at night...”

Ser Arthur smiled. “Ser Oswell is used to sleeping beside me for all these years in Lys. Now, that he cannot, he cannot sleep and so he works. It is how he makes sense of things. Ser Barristan will take the forge from him soon enough.”

“Where does he sleep, if not with you?”

“He sleeps in the room by the kitchens.”

“Why can you not sleep together?”

“Well, besides the vow we made to protect you, we vowed celibacy, which is like to never love someone over our King. I don’t love him more than you, but it is very close. However, since we have been in Lys, we have forgotten some of the vows. Ser Barristan reminded us.” 

"Also, we are headed back to Westeros and it is not the custom. Things are not as they are in Lys. People in the Seven Kingdoms would not understand. They would call us wicked and unnatural.”

“The Seven Kingdoms sound like a terrible place. I do not want to go there.”

“It is not so terrible. The people will cheer to see you and lift you up to be their King. The people loved your father and they will love you.”

Jon wanted to protest but he did not. Ser Arthur tucked him in bed but did not leave. Instead, he sat beside the bed and they both listened to the cries of the steel as the hammer broke it.


End file.
